


Home

by liamthebastard



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fallen Castiel, Gen, Season/Series 08 Spoilers, Series Finale, Slash Goggles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-17
Updated: 2013-05-17
Packaged: 2017-12-12 02:32:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/806145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liamthebastard/pseuds/liamthebastard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean answers the bunker door expecting Charlie or Garth or Kevin. Instead, he finds the man he thought had died only hours ago on the other side, looking exhausted and very much human.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home

“C’mon Sammy, let’s go,” Dean muttered, tearing his eyes away from the spectacle in the sky and helping his baby brother into the car. Sam at first resisted, but when Dean started to use his strength, his brother gave up and slumped into the backseat with a groan. 

Dean gunned it down back roads, pointedly refusing to acknowledge the angels streaking the night sky. But driving always made his mind settle, and when it settled, he had to think about it.

Cas hadn’t come when he’d called. Cas always came when it was something important like this, when Dean really screamed for him to come. This time it had been more than just wanting some mojo or needing his help with something, this was Dean begging to not be left alone, to not be left behind again. 

And Cas hadn’t come. 

And angels had streaked the sky with flame, their wings burning off as they fell. 

Dean slammed into park in front of the bunker, feeling guilty a moment later when he heard Sam’s pained groan from the backseat. He went around the Impala, pulled Sammy out and carried him into the bunker. Once he’d gotten Sammy situated on his bed, he went into the kitchen, grabbed the first aid kit, a few beers, and some protein bars from the cupboard.

Back in the bedroom, Sam was sitting up, a hand braced to his head and small grimace on his face. “Dean…” he croaked, “The angels… you said they were falling. Does that mean Cas-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean said gruffly, shoving a beer and the protein bars at Sam. “Drink and eat, then sleep. You need rest.” Sam opened and shut his mouth a few times like a fish, looking like he was about to argue, but then he sipped at the beer and nibbled at the protein bars for a bit before folding himself up under the blankets and falling asleep. 

Once he was sure Sammy was sound asleep, Dean slipped out of the room. As much as he wanted to watch over Sammy to make sure everything was okay, he needed to step out, just for a second, just to get himself together so he could be strong for his brother. 

_Cas is dead. Get used to it,_ he thought harshly, hoping if he was sharp enough he could just push the feelings of grief and regret away and not have to look at them. He sank into a chair in the main room, beer bottle clutched in his hand. He stared at it for a moment, then knocked the whole bottle back in two swigs, hoping it would at least start to kill the gnawing pain inside him. It was dead silent in the bunker; even so, he almost didn’t hear the faint knocking at the door. 

Weird. Maybe Charlie had decided to swing by for a visit. If so, she couldn’t have picked a worse time. But still, the knocking continued, so Dean hauled himself up, feeling half-dead, and wandered over to the door, tossing it open with a snarky line already on the tip of his tongue. 

“Look, Charlie-” he started, but then his voice was ripped away by shock. In the doorway wobbled a man he thought he’d never see again. “Cas.”

The man looked up slightly in acknowledgement. “I am in need of shelter for the night. You owe me nothing… but I have nowhere else to go.” Castiel looked like he would have gone on, begged maybe even, but Dean stepped forward and pulled him into a tight embrace. At first, Cas was stiff, but after it became clear Dean wasn’t going to pull away, he returned the hug with awkward arms.

“I- I thought you were _dead_ ,” Dean said into Cas’s shoulder, his voice thick.

“I wish I was,” Cas answered instantly, and no, that wasn’t right, that was too close to what Sammy said, what Cas had said so long ago, and Dean wasn’t going to lose either of them, it couldn’t happen.

“Don’t you ever say that,” Dean said fiercely, pulling back but keeping his hands tight on Cas’s shoulders. “Not ever.”

Cas only frowned in confusion at him, and then Dean realized they were still in the doorway with the door wide open probably letting in every mayfly and mosquito in the state. He yanked Cas inside and closed the door, locking it quietly behind them before he led Cas to the kitchen.

“You’re hungry, yeah? Sit down, I’ll cook,” Dean said, pushing Cas into a chair at the table and heading to the kitchen to turn the stove on. Cas followed after him, looking like a lost lamb, and hovered over his shoulder while Dean fried up some bacon and toasted the bread for a BLT. Thanks to Sammy, the fridge had plenty of vegetables in it, so once the bacon was done it took only a few minutes to assemble the sandwiches. 

It was when they were sitting at the table, eating quietly, that Cas finally spoke.

“Dean…” he said slowly, his sandwich already gone in a fit of ravenous hunger, “I did that.”

“What, the sandwich? Dude, that’s what you’re supposed to do.” Dean knew he was being stupid, that that wasn’t what Cas meant, but part of him didn’t want to hear Cas say it, to claim responsibility for what happened.

“No. Heaven. Metatron- he stole my Grace, Dean. Sliced it from my neck like it was so much blood. And he used it, and my other actions, to force the angels to Fall. IT is worse than the Leviathans, and it is all my fault.” Cas stared despondently at the plate, pouring his sins out to Dean, and Dean was abruptly furious; with Metatron, with the angels, with anyone and everyone who had ever made Cas feel like his heart was his greatest weakness.

“Listen to me, Castiel. Yeah, you messed up a bit, but you _stopped_. Everything that happened after, that was all Metatron. All him. He used you, but you can’t blame yourself for it. _It wasn’t your fault_.” And dammit Sammy was right, maybe Dean was turning into a chick, because since when had he been good at this comforting others shtick? Yet Cas was looking up, a bit of hope sparking in his eyes even as sorrow reigned. 

“Dean. I destroyed my home.” He paused. “I _have_ no home.”

Dean abandoned his sandwich and leapt up. “C’mon,” he said, grabbing Cas by the hand and not even pausing to think how weird that was before he was dragging the ex-angel down the hallways to his room. 

“You see this?” he said, pointing around his room, directing Cas’s attention to the blank wall and the empty chair by the bed. “This is my home. It’s yours if you want it.”

He turned to Cas, breath held awkwardly until the man nodded. “I think that I would like that very much,” Cas said a moment later. 

“Awesome.”

**Author's Note:**

> So I downplayed Sam's injuries because it makes me scream to think that he's hurting. Yeah. I just really want season 9 right now.


End file.
